I Can't...My Nails Are Wet

Everyday isn't a lovely one. In fact, today is quite un-lovely. I'm just not feeling it.

I was busy blaming the rain and lack of a relaxing weekend this past Monday when I was midway through a freshly opened magazine. I get super excited checking the mail to find a new mag. Anyway, I was midway through it when Dat Dood asked, "Mommy, you wanna color with me?" I was like, "No." I immediately felt awful, like I was stunting his creativity. As if his chances for becoming the next great Jay Jay Evans was ruined because I said no on this day 2010.

Then he says, in third person, "Why? Why you not wanna color with Joshua?" Sigh. I wasn't giving in this time. I color with Dat Dood almost every night. Surely I should be able to read a magazine just one night. So I kept reading. Careful not to look at his little cutie cute face.

So he pulled out his tray full o' crayons and both black & white composition notebooks. One for him, the other reserved  for Daddy or I. He starts coloring as I'm reading. Then he says,  "Look I made a purple banana." I yell, "Awesome!" We high five. Every achievement is a high five. Then he says, "Now you wanna color with me?"

It was like a bad version of Green Eggs & Ham. He was Sam & I was the other no named guy. He's all, "Would you could you in the rain? Would you could you on a train?"

And in this moment I realize what I'm missing. But first a quick story.

My mother was famous for painting her nails at the craziest times of the day. Like right before dinner or first thing in the morning. It was bizarre. It wasn't until I was a parent that I understood this. It was not just a little peace of heaven or feminine trickery. But anyone who has ever painted their nails or seen anyone get their nails painted knows that after said painting comes a required drying time. This drying time trumped any and everything.

The baby pooped. Change him my nails are wet. 


What's for dinner? I dunno my nails are wet.


Someone broke in the house. Can you call 911? My nails are wet.

It's a secret weapon I tell you. Try it. And you will like it in the rain & you will like it on a ...You get the point.

So Saturday the hubby decides to go to work on his day off....again. And as I'm watching him get dressed I'm already thinking about how the day will play out without him. There will be meals, and snacks, and someone has to entertain these people (and by people I mean my 2 kids & by someone I mean moi). There will be minor home destruction in the form of a 4 yr old. There will be hunger in the form of a 14 yr old. Then there will be me once again on a weekend trying to do it all. I was exhausted at the thought.

So I combed my hair, slapped it back in a pony tail, and started painting my nails, toes & all. It was so organic, so natural, so anti-biotic free (sorry occupational habit). It was instinctual. Yeah that's the right word. I just started painting. A coat of pearl on the toes, rose pink on my digits.

Then came the best part of all. The drying time. As if on cue Fidget comes in, "Mommy, can I go with Kayla down the hill to the block party?" Oh yes, the block party. However did I forget that my wonderful neighbors that I don't talk to were having a community fun day complete with face painting, moon bouncing, and free food. Hmmmm? However, did that slip my mind? LOL! Then like a bolt of lightening, I uttered the phrase I vowed never to say. I, the big sister of my family bore the brunt of most outside play. I refused to obligate Lyric is the same way. But it was inevitable. Impossible.

I looked at the Fidge & said, "Sure, you can go. But take your brother. My nails are wet."

And for the next 90 minutes (yup, they couldn't even stay gone for a whole 2 hours..smh) as my nails dried I watched a little TV and tried in vain to take a nap. I admit as much as I love my family including my brothers, sister, niece, nephew, mom & dad who I saw on Sunday, those 90 minutes were the highlight of my weekend.

So what's my point? I suffer from a lack of me time. I was diagnosed in the late 90s but was doing well for a while with frequent treatments of "kid at her grandparents weekend". But then we moved and I relapsed a few years back with "new kid & hubby works weekend itis." It's an ongoing battle. But I hope to recover soon with new treatments of "Idontgiveadamn" and  "I'mgoingtoTarget".

So Ladies & Gentlemen of the blogosphere. Do you suffer from a lack of "me time"? What do you do to get it? If you have a family how do you find your own balance?

The floor (& the bar) is open.

MM: Hey Hip Hop What's With All The Dance Songs?

On this edition of Music Mondays I pose the title question. ^

I'm all for evolution and hip hop as a genre has always attempted to evolve and reach. This time it's just gone a synthesized drum beat too far.

Having a remix version of a song is cool but completely alienating the very people that buy/listen/download your music just to make it to Top 40 radio is maddening.

Exhibit A: Florida

Yeah, Yeah I know he's Flo Rida. And yeah, yeah I know...does he even count in this conversation? Really who let this dude in? Oh yeah...T-Pain with their to ode to chicks in Apple Bottom jeans. Thanks T-Pain. I hate you. Now when I'm driving the non-satellite car, & tired of every single CD in it, & forced to listen to local radio I have to hear this dude. I won't even clog up this blog post with anything but his picture. That's where I draw the line to make a point. Moving on...

Exhibit: Beyonce



I'm cool with Mrs. Carter catering to her Stans but damn. Now I read that she's in the studio crafting even more 80's inspired tunes with the help of "Sweet Dreams" collaborator Jim Jonsin. Sigh. And according to Ne-Yo we should all prepare ourselves for many upbeat dance songs.

Exhibit C: Ne-Yo

Speaking of Ne-Yo...he has a funny shaped head and I'm really tired of him touching the brim of his hat when he dances. MJ you are not. Now speaking of his music. He's also trying to master this new phenomenon of playing to both urban and Top 40 radio simultaneously.  With "Closer" it seems Ne-Yo & his hat tapped into a new marketing scheme. Now while "Champagne Life" soars on hip hop & R&B stations "Beautiful Monster" attacks non-urban channels.



Exhibit D: Usher

I blame William for this. While I did dance a bit to "OMG", f/ William (mama named him William, I'ma call him William) his newly anointed, repackaged attempt at all things dance/pop music just reeks of desperation. And why is this dude still woopin' pa nub in the club?



It kinda sounds like Ne-Yo's "Beautiful Monster" part 2. And is there a music law I'm unaware of that says in order to Kriss Kross over you must put Pitbull in your song?

Sigh...smh

Anyway great people of the blogosphere do you think this trend is here to stay like the latin inspired everything of the late 90's early 00's? Should I just start fist pounding in the club?

The floor is open.

Weapons Of Tasty Confection

And now for my last trick...ladies & gentlemen I will attempt to make a dessert using these here ingredients formed from the directions of this here paper.

Sounds easy right?

Not for me. I have cried real tears over a cheese cake. I almost threw a coconut cake straight out my back door. My daughter had to take over the toffee portion of our butter crunch cookies. I, A Lovely Dai, self professed lover of all things edible, manifester of scratch made savory dishes, and one pot wonder woman can not bake worth a penny with a hole in it. I suck.

Usually I just laugh about this. I tell my crazy apple pie story (there was a crust with some gloopy apple stuff in between but a pie it was not) and I brush the light brown sugar off my shoulders. Why? Because I am an otherwise beast in the kitchen. Ask about me. I can taste anything one time & recreate it at home. It's my specialty. Lemongrass Chicken, Curry Anything, Stir frys, Soul Food, Thai, Italian, Seafood, Indian...I can do it all!!! I made a prime rib for Christmas last year that my hubby still talks about today. I'm nice.

They say most people who can bake well are just "so so" at cooking, & those who can burn in the kitchen are probably terrified to preheat the oven. I agree. I think it has something to do with measuring & actually following directions. See in my cooking life I am a regular Rachel Ray. A splash of this, a turn of the pan of that. I eyeball everything. But baking is just so specific & scientific & the 7th grade Physical Science Me gets all messed up about this. I. Just. Can't.

This baking season will be different. I'm drawing my own line in the sand. I'm throwing down the big wooden spoon gauntlet. I'm tap dancing all over all purpose flour yelling "Challenge" to Betty Crocker & them. I am running up the brownie stairs to Rocky theme music. I am...you get the point. This is the year people. I will not let my yummy hubby out bake me (he's yummy & he bakes a cream cheese pound cake so out of this world a dolphin walks on land every time one cools off. The man used to stand & whip this confection for 7 minutes...7 minutes...until we bought a Kitchen Aid. It's copper & mocks me.)

So on this Fall Solstice Day I am preparing my brain for battle. I am gathering my weapons of tasty confection. The Mocking Copper Kitchen Aid, all of my dusty measuring utensils, some cooling racks that are stuffed under the counter in a box, & a gang of Paula Dean butter. I am armed with a slew of recipes that are marked "easy" and "little prep time" and with my trusty Fidge (daughter) we I will conquer my Pillsbury demons. Yes! With a "B" on my chest (for baker not the other B word) I will annihilate...my non baking self.

This is the year that I will bring baked goodies...real homemade goods to my daughter's theater bake sale & my son's preschool. No I will not use the pre-mixed stuff, draw a heart on it, jam a lollipop stick in it, cover in plastic, tie in a bow & pass it off as my own. Although they were a big hit!

This year I will not only receive my baking friend JB's wonderful chocolate treats & zuchinni bread but I will swap tasty goods with her...that her whole family can enjoy...not the tiny piece of cake I gave her last year because I was too stressed to even think about making a whole new cake.

Yes! This year will be different. And you out there. Yes you! If you have any starter recipes that will not induce tears send them to me. I'll love to read try them.

The oven is preheated.

Great Relationship AdviceThat I Learned From (Gasp) Men

The craziest thing about relationships is that we (women) think we've cornered the market on them as if we're in them alone. We believe that we have all the answers like we invented love and all would be just fine if they (men) would only do what we say listen. I used to think this too. My girlfriends came to me with their own issues and I would listen & give answers. Then one day I realized that my answers were gifted to me by the lessons I learned from *gasp* men. I watched the premiere episode of  LaLa's Full Court Wedding on Vh1 and one of her good friends singer/actor Tyrese gave her some advice about going from a girlfriend to a wife. While I'll hold my opinion to another post it got me thinking about all the wonderful insight I've learned from men. Here's a few. And if you haven't seen this episode click here.

 
1. Keep Your Business Personal
I was dating my favorite ex boyfriend and we had a quarrel. It was pretty minor by my account. So minor that I didn't think it was big deal to update a girlfriend about it. So I call her up & I'm all "Girl...you know what he did" blah blah blah. I don' recall how he found out but he none too pleased. To him it didn't matter if he slapped me or left the toilet seat up it was our business. Furthermore, he would feel "less than" during the next time he encountered said girlfriend. None of this made any sense to me. I always talk to my girls. His point was that if the situation was reversed I would never want any of his friends to view me as "that bytch"  and he didn't want my friends to view him in an "ain't shyt" light. It makes perfect sense. In our need to vent and bond with our girlfriends we often over share the goings on in our relationships. And let's be honest, it's not always positive. Do pay attention to what you say about your mate. Also remember that when the issue is corrected & you're all lovey dovey again your girlfriend will still have an active tally of all your man has done wrong. You don't want that.

2. Speaking of Girlfriends...Men Are Not Your Girlfriends
My hubby knows if he sets up a question I will knock that mofo down. I'll give him a power point presentation complete with handouts on whatever he asks me. That said I only do this when he asks me. For example: "Hey babe, did you see that La La show last night?" Me: "Sure did." Hubby: "Whatcha think?" Me: "Well clearly we can ascertain from just this 22 minute episode that Carmelo was not the only one with commitment issues. The girl can't even commit to the damn $8000 Vera Wang that she already purchased...& let me tell you about Tyrese..." See how this works. LOL! For the record my hubby would never ask me this question which is why I have girlfriends & tweeties. I speak EPSNease to the hubby. I leave the celeb debates & other tomfoolery for my GFs.

3. And When You're Ready to Talk...Talk. Men Are Not Mind Readers
Oh how I'd love to sigh, pout, or stomp my way into what I need. I would channel my inner 2 year old and totally get everything. I'd be the best 2 year old ever! But alas I am a grown woman who is capable of words and putting them together and thus must use them. This is tough when you want your mate to understand you. Rewind. This is tough when you think your mate should already know what's wrong. They usually don't. And if they do, they don't understand. And if they understand, they don't know how to fix it. And if they know how to fix it, they are women mind readers. And men are not mind readers. My yummy hubby had to school me one day when I was giving him my patented silent treatment. This man got all kinds of frustrated with me, looked me deep in my soul, and said, "Babe, I can not read your mind. If something's wrong you gotta tell me." Wow!  The heavens opened and the angels started singing. Then I understood not only does he not know what's wrong he doesn't even know something is wrong. Talk about a breakthrough. Once I gave in to the idea that he really wasn't paying attention needed me to explain my perspective it changed the way I communicated with him.

4. And While You're Communicating...Leave The Drama For the Stage
Funny story. My favorite ex boyfriend & I were on the phone chatting about something & he pissed me off. I hung up on him. Then I stared at the phone waiting for it to ring. When it didn't I called him back like, "Why didn't you call me back?" And he said, "Um, because you hung up on me." LOL! I laugh because for years before him in a very unhealthy relationship with another ex this was how we functioned. Screaming took the place of talking, name calling replaced love & respect & threatening to leave or actually leaving followed by 808s & heartbreak was simply the way we were. I thought everyone's relationship was like this. What? You don't throw things & punch walls to make a point? Hmm. Well good for you. I did. That is until I met someone who would not tolerate my behavior or excuse it as normal. After a while it all feels like one big Eminem & Rihanna song and that's not good for anyone. You will get angry. You may want to pluck every single one of his toe nails out one by one but that's no way to make a point. Didn't Sister Mary J Blige teach us how to have no more drama?


5. And Then Keep Your Balance...Remember to Do You
Once again this lesson comes from my favorite ex boyfriend. He was a single dad, worked full time, & was in school full time, yet still made time for himself. While I was always giving, depleting, and consequently exhausted, he was taking a nap. While I struggled to make time for my family & my girls he had a penciled in night with the fellas. He read books while I flipped hastily through magazines. Some of us think this is selfish behavior. I disagree. I think it's completely self less. Why? Because he was balanced. In fact most men I know are awesome at this. They work hard & most of them play harder. So what if the dishes pile up. So what if the clean clothes never make it to the drawer. No one will remember how great you were completing mundane tasks but they will remember how exhausted you look not enjoying life. So do you! Go out. Read that book. Take that class. Rest.

And now that you're resting what other lessons or advice have you received from men?

The floor is open.

Why I Smile

I've been fascinated by my own resilience for years. I often wonder why I'm able to bounce from things that would send others into a great depression or cause them to drink or to become a hoarder. I see people everyday stress about little things and sweat the small stuff. I don't understand those people especially since in my blah blah blah years I've endured a fair amount of my own stuff.

I remember telling a good friend a part of my life story and I was so caught up in trying to remember the details that I never noticed his demeanor change. It was like popping the air out of a roll back happy face balloon. I was wrapping up my story when he looked at me and said (and I'll never forget this), "I don't know how you smile everyday."

It was an odd thing to say. It's an odd thing to write. That's where my own personal case study began. I thought everyone moved on, built a bridge, found new cheese. And who said I was Teflon?

I was just re-reading a journal I started when the yummy hubby & I started dating. I was a whiny, clingy wreck. Yeah, I said it. Pathetic envied me. I won't explain the whys and what happened now but it was all ridiculous. One day I decided that I wasn't going to deal with it anymore. Okay so it didn't really happen quite like that. One day my impacted wisdom tooth decided that I wasn't going to talk anymore, eat anymore, feel anything but the pain in my upper left jaw. And who could argue with my upper left jaw...she was winning gums down!

So I stopped talking and I started listening. I corrected my neurosis, got a root canal, and the rest is still happening. My point who knows is that I got over myself, got out my own way, dealt with my ish. As my bestie (and Katt Williams) would say I looked my star player in the mirror and said, "Look chick, stop effing up & get it together."

This know how, this lovely knowledge has served me well. Quite well. And until yesterday I truly believed that this was unique to me. I imagine that the world is one big ball o' suffering and one day I will extract that very line of  my own  resilient DNA & I would cure all kinds of everything. With one swallow of my Fukitol pill not so fat chicks would realize that they are not so fat. Short people would stand tall. We would all hold hands with our newly found confidence & self esteem while singing that ole Coca Cola spiritual.



Yes, yesterday I thought it was just me. Then I talked to my mother. Who asked me if I was alright. I wasn't. My dad had just been rushed to the hospital. My hubby was on stand by to see what I needed. Do you need me to come get you? Pick up Dood? What do you need? I had just emailed a co-worker this:

Hey,

My Dad isn't doing well. He was rushed to the hospital. I just wanted someone to know in case I ran out of here and didn't come back.

Thanks,

Dai

My mom was talking to me about being strong and brave and practical. She reminded this moon child that I was raised by not one but two Cancerians and that we often compartmentalize. I realized at that moment that I wasn't being strong and resilient and I wasn't in denial about my Dad's health and his battle with the Big C. I was avoiding it all. Compartmentalizing it all. I hadn't visited over the weekend like I said I would. I kept tabs on him through her, a woman who had become great friends to a man she hasn't been with since the early 90s.

But just as I started to feel sorry for myself, I remembered what my Dad always tells me. Don't worry unless I worry. I called my aunt who was with my Dad and got an update. Called my hubby and told him I was staying at work. I picked Dood up as usual, went grocery shopping, turned the oven on for the first time in months, and checked with my brother who was at the hospital. I watched the Ravens claw their way to a win on their season opener. Then I slept. It may have been a mac n cheese coma but I slept and I woke up with that everything's gonna be okay feeling.

My mom facebooked me the hospital number and here's part of how the conversation went:

Me: Hey I hear you talking about the free meals and accommodations.


Dad: Don't forget the free parking. But I must say the food is terrible. You're gonna have to sneak your Dad some food in here quick! Oh shyt I think someone heard me say that. They'll probably have a guard at the door now.


Me: Are they letting you eat?


Dad: No. It's just broth. Did you hear what happened to me?


Me: Mmmm Hmmm...


Dad: I went to brush my teeth and woke up in the hospital.


Me: Is that how it happened now?


Dad: For me it did. Well someone's here. Oh shyt he's putting on rubber gloves. Must be serious.


Me: (laughing) Okay I love you, I'll check on you later.


Dad: Love you too muffin. Remember. Don't worry unless I worry.



And this ladies and gentlemen is why I smile everyday. Because I woke up, because I'm still here, because I was raised to bounce through anything by people who have been through almost everything. Because somebody's gotta do it. Because ain't no mountain high enough. Because there isn't enough lovely in the world. Because I said so.

Why do you smile everyday?

The floor is open.

Can A Sista Get A Love Song?

I've been in a extra lovely mood lately. Maybe because I'm still coming off my Pookem Puff high (my nephew stayed with us over the weekend for the first time..him so cute) or I'm trying to balance the Universe. Who knows...

Anyway. So I'm driving to work & two of my current little diddies come on. The 1st Fantasia's "Bittersweet". That girl put all of her country home wrecking self into that song. The 2nd is Jazmine Sullivan's "Circles". I like this song mostly because the first verse recycles the melody of Mary J Blige's "Be Happy" that was sampled from Marvin Gaye's "I Want You" (see how Marvin moves everything around me?) but at face value the voices are strong & both are quite catchy. I give them 2 thumbs up.

So of course I sing along. Let me rephrase: I saaannngg in the car y'all. Windows down. I belted those joints. Like I was going through some thangs. Yup, like some no good lying cheating bastard done dougied on my heart. I had it bad for about 2 minutes 30 seconds during both songs.

But then the moon child in me gets all watery and needs to balance all of this "he did me wrong drama" with some love. Yes love. Heard of it? It's awesome. I highly recommend it. So I scan all 100+ XM channels woopin pa nub and guess what? Every chick was singing about how "he" (who is this he) done did her wrong. Every last one these chicks done been through some thangs too.

Weird huh? Because the population hasn't decreased and I ain't no Statistician but I'll go out on the limb & say that the rate at which babies are being born has a direct correlation to people still having lots of unprotected sex. You can quote me on that.

So if people still like/love each other long enough to have relations thus causing the baby effect then gosh darn it cheese & crackers what are all these chicks singing about? Surely one these heffas fine ladies have loved a man and had love in return right? I haven't heard not one "I Hate Everything But Your Magic Stick" song. Not a one. Quote me on that too. Although it's really besides the point because I'm not looking for an I-want-to-make-love-to-you song. I'm looking for a love song.

I want this song to be a big breasted woman...wait...huh? I want this song to kiss babies and soar from the heavens wearing Beyonce's "Halo". It should be melodic and stop traffic. The lyrics should cascade like a unicorn's mane frolicking down a chocolate swirled double rainbow. Too much?

So I ask great people of the blogoshere. If God is willing and the creek don't rise can a sista get one happy love song? Just one?

Awww Gee Thanks & 7 Random Facts About Me

Da awesomely lovely Kween of Da Kween's Kaleidescope was so kind to grace this blog with a Versatile Blog Award & a Beautiful Blogger Award. *Pulls folded paper from cleavage* thank you so much sweetie & thank all of you who read, enjoy, tweet, FB, & comment. I soooo appreciate it.

And since no reward comes without hard work I'm supposed to list 7 Random Facts about myself. So here goes in no particular order.

1. In my head I'm very Kimora Lee...fabulous all day, stilleto everything, high-maintenance, w/ a glam squad. In real life I'm very plain Dai.

2. When no one is looking I don't do anything. I veg & watch endless hours of L&O SVU & Food Network. If I didn't have a family I'd be a bum. A really good one. I practice my bum any given Sunday. An hour before my hubby gets home I throw dinner together & clean up like I've been busy all day. You care about this.

3. I'm an avid collector of great beautiful girlfriends. In fact, my collection dates back to 1989. They've all been appraised as priceless and they will kick azz for me.

4. I've lived in 19 different places in my life. One of them 2x. I've lived in my current home for 4 years & I still haven't unpacked everything.

5. I make everyone laugh from strangers & my kids, to my girlfriends & the VP of my company. My hubby doesn't get half of my jokes. My humor does nothing for him. My life's mission is to make him laugh til it hurts & he damn near dies from oxygen deprivation. Idk, maybe I should just slap someone & fart.

6. Jay Z is my favorite songwriter. Although he doesn't actually write.

7. The first boy that ever broke my heart (in 6th grade) just got married. I never got to tell him how much that mess messed me up. It's all pointless now...right?